The F Word
by Black-Lyra
Summary: Zim and Dib reflect upon their long-standing rivalry, the truce that altered it, and resolve to never change who they are...while watching movie marathons on Dib's couch. Rivalry/Friendship sorta.


_**The F-Word**_

_(A/N): I've been writing and looking at too much angst lately, so this is a bit of a change of pace._

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_-"It takes ages for the light of the stars to fade or change from our eyes, so in this place, let the lasting impression I leave upon your soul be just the same as the stars above" ~Personal Quote_

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"Dib-beast! Give Zim the remote!" The small alien pointed sharply at the rectangle of black plastic sitting on top of the shelf next to the blaring TV, though his order seemingly had no effect on the human lounging next to him. In fact, his rival wasn't even meeting his eyes or looking at him, though the curve of his mouth suggested he was finding Zim's anger humorous. "I said, give it! This program is stoopid!"

Dib finally met his gaze, the look on his face hesitating somewhere between an amused grin and a fierce sneer that invoked memories of his younger days, "No. Go and get it yourself. I'm not your butler."

Zim almost hissed at him; the human really _was _enjoying this!

But the Irken was determined to not look weak in front of him and dropped off of the couch and stalked over to the shelf, eyeing the remote carefully. The device was easily above his head and reaching it by conventional ways was clearly impossible, but the alien wasn't dissuaded. He spared a glance at Dib, who was now observing him openly, paying absolutely no attention to the blubbering nonsense of the idiotic news reporter on the teevee. The human was splayed against the couch cushions, long legs reaching to the floor and arms crossed behind his head. His was very picture of unconcerned comfort.

Zim hated how freakishly fast humans grew, especially when the person in question was his rival. Of course he knew for a long time that this smelly race could be so tall—he'd relayed this information to his Tallest before anyway—but it didn't really sink in very well until the day that he realized Dib had to tilt his head downward for them to be able to glare eye to eye like always. Zim hadn't really compared Dib's height to any other human, though he was only dimly aware that it was somewhat above average, but the fact that the Irken got that fact rubbed in his face all the time wasn't in the least bit pleasant.

In fact, he'd realized a flaw in his amazing disguise regarding that not growing would make him stand out in school. Soon enough, Zim had informed the principle that he would be "moving abroad" and no one but Dib knew any differently; that boy was the only one who really knew where he lived after all.

Zim didn't exactly remember how old the boy was now or if his current age was considered to be an "adult," since he never paid much attention to such things. Maybe it was twenty? No, Zim was sure it was at least one or two years older than that amount. Not that the truth mattered much to the alien anyway. After all, no matter how tall Dib became in his life, their blatant age difference meant the human would always be something of a child in comparison to him.

Redirecting his narrowed red eyes to the remote, Zim considered using the mechanical extensions hidden away in his Pak to snatch the device without the slightest effort, but some part of his brain discarded this idea. There was an unspoken agreement between the two that resorting to technology for simple tasks was considered to be weak, and being such a grand Invader, the alien wouldn't live up to such an idea. Briefly, he wondered if the human kept putting it there because he knew that Zim couldn't reach it, though habit was the more likely cause. Casting a sudden glare at Dib, who was still watching patiently, Zim leapt up and scrambled up the shelf to claim his prize. Holding aloft the rectangular device high into the air and facing his black-haired rival, he announced, "Victory for Zim!"

"It's just a remote, Zim. It's not that big a deal," Dib's voice was deadpan, but a smile twitched to life.

The alien merely huffed in response and looked a bit put out, and stomped back to the couch and heaved himself back onto it, kicking at Dib's legs to get them out of the way and he returned to his spot from before. Unduly focused for someone who was just watching TV, Zim pointed the device carefully at the screen and proceeded to flip swiftly through the channels with reckless abandon. After a few short moments, he stretched a little and frowned at the navy blue faux leather fabric of the couch as though it had done something to personally offend him, "I don't like this couch."

"I don't care, Zim." Dib's tone was almost conversational, flipping idly through the well-used notebook that he had pulled from his pocket. Most of the pages were crowded to the brim with small lettering from old childhood investigations and observational notes. In stark contrast, much of the more recent writing was coded into a type of complex shorthand that had to be decoded in order to read.

"It's lumpy," Zim snapped, punching the fabric with both tiny fists as if to prove his point.

"That's nice, Zim."

"There are tears in it!"

"You made those, remember?" The human didn't even bother glancing at the suspicious marks made by a three-clawed hand days past, instead leaning over to unhook the buckles of his heavy black boots.

"It's still ugly! You should get a better one, unless you want this dump to smell even worse than it does already!" Zim faced him completely now, claws curled by his sides. There was something about his voice that led Dib to believe the reason he was irritated had absolutely nothing to do with his furniture.

Putting his notebook carefully down on the nearby coffee table, Dib turned towards the alien with one eyebrow arched in interest, "Are you so bored that insulting my stuff is the only way you can think of to pass time? I don't know why you bothered coming over if this is what was going to happen. If you don't shut up about my couch, I'm going to throw something at you very hard, okay?" He crossed his arms tightly, but the little Irken simply started to laugh at him as though the idea was just ludicrous.

"Hah, foolish Dib-human! You can't fool me!" He pointed a claw at the glowering Dib and cawed out once more, believing that as an 'adult,' he was bound to the rules of society far more so than he was as a child. He was completely certain that Dib couldn't follow up on his threat, right up until the human's leather boot clocked him right upside the head. Jerking around, he found Dib giving him that same victorious sneer and instantly lost what composure he had.

Zim lunged at the human, trying to wrap his claws around his throat. Dib saw such a maneuver and his sock-covered foot was planted into the alien's stomach, hurling him over his head like a green ragdoll. Zim caught himself from being thrown into the coffee table by snagging ahold of his rival's hair, and soon enough, both were kicking and clawing with renewed vigor. It didn't take long for the couch to be completely forgotten as the battleground shifted to the floor instead.

Dib was much taller and stronger, fully capable of throwing the alien across the length of his living room, provided that Zim would stay still long enough to allow such a thing to happen. He'd gotten practice enough that combat and his balance was much improved from his gawky, younger days.

As for Zim, well in the interest of fairness, there were no longer any complaints about using the metal appendages in his Pak. Sharp yes, but still light enough to be batted away.

Dib's apartment was quickly filled with the sounds of yelling, cursing and loud crashes.

The neighbors didn't bother to complain about the noise anymore. It never did any good and most of them had grown used to the sounds by now, simply rolling over irritably in their beds as the ruckus from 35B kicked up yet again. All they knew about the occurrences was that things only got that way when the weird green "kid" with a bad temper came to visit the tenant there.

Maybe they were friends of some sort?

No, definitely not.

Much later, the pair was once again lounging on the couch, a giant bag of buttered popcorn crammed between them, while watching an incredibly gory monster movie.

Both had obtained small injuries from the earlier tussle, but didn't seem to pay them any mind whatsoever, and the previously insulted couch now far worse off than it was before with stuffing pouring out of large gashes down the sides. Zim's wig had been thrown off somewhere in the fight and he hadn't even bothered to put it back on afterwards, an odd sight with freely waving antennae and red eyes still shielded by bluish contact lenses. They both took large handfuls from the bag every few minutes, commenting incessantly on the movie and the idiocy of the victims being picked off.

Ever since Dib found out that Zim was capable of dining on foods loaded to the brim with sugar, he found that it was best that he stock up on snacks just in case for whenever he decided to randomly burst into his home. For such a little creature, he could be incredibly demanding and spontaneous.

Otherwise there would be much raiding of the cupboards and he wasn't going to be tolerating that.

Or in Zim's words, "Claiming his foodstuffs in the name of the Irken army."

As Dib glanced over at the green alien sitting next to him, stuffing his face with the adult's food provided for this 'truce meeting,' and the sight made him start to laugh with a full mouth as the realization hit him hard. For a moment, he even started to choke a little and Zim just growled. "Learn to chew, human!"

Calming down, Dib watch another unlucky character of the horror movie meet their blood and violent end via a large sharp pole through the stomach before commenting aloud, "You know...it's a bit strange to say... If anyone were to suddenly walk in here right now and see us, they would probably assume that we were friends or something similar."

Instantly, Zim choked down the rest of the food in his mouth and turned to give the human a hard look, "But we are not. This is a truce, not a..._friendship._" Zim almost seemed to chew on the word viciously before spitting it out, as though the effort of saying it had actually hurt him somehow.

"It's not a curse word. You can say it normally you know..."

"Yes, it is! It is the horrible F-word! Do not say it or else you will invoke the wrath of Zim!" They shared another tense moment of silence before Zim returned to the bag of popcorn, hefting it up into the air above his head as though threatening Dib with its removal. The taller figure just chuckled faintly and snatched the bag back with one hand lazily and replacing it back between them where it was before.

When he turned his attention back to the movie however, Dib realized with some small twinge of disappointment that the credits were already rolling by, having missed the ending with their brief conversation. But as his eyes picked out a certain set of videos on the shelf, his face broke out into another grin. "Hey Zim..." The alien paused, both of his hands completely submerged in the sack of buttered treats before slowly rising to his mouth, silently questioning while busy stuffing his face. "We should watch a marathon..." He flashed the _Alien _movie in his face and Zim seemed to make motion indicating his approval until Dib continued, "...because that's what good friends do."

Instantaneously, Zim tried to scream at him in rage but ended up choking on the food still in his mouth and ended up pounding his chest violently with a fist to settle the fit.

"Hey, space lizard...if you end up choking to death in my house, I'm still going to dissect you. I hope you know that," Dib tapped his foot impatiently, pushing the eject button and replacing the video already in the player. He did mean what he was saying though, even if he was in somewhat of a snarky mood. Alongside his part time job as a programmer, Dib's extended seniority influence in the Swollen Eyeball gave him access to certain underground connections and parties that would be very interested in bringing in an alien specimen. Of course since the "truce" started, both human and Irken had agreed to avoid trying to kill each other if they could help it, though the scuffles and violent fights breaking out spontaneously were still commonplace. It was mostly a mixture of habit, clashes of personality, and just pure boredom that prompted them now instead of life or death situations though.

But that didn't apply if the alien managed to get himself killed on accident.

Dib had no issue whatsoever with turning him in then.

He had no interest in corpses stinking up his apartment.

Zim had also promised to burn his body should Dib managed to get himself killed.

The human choose not to mention that such an action would in some countries or beliefs be considered a rite for the honored dead. There was simply too much irony there to let Zim ruin it.

As he flopped back down on the couch, heedless of the viciously glaring alien who started kicking wildly at his legs again, Dib let his eyes wander to the screen where the movie was starting up. "You do have to admit that it looks that way, right?"

"No, no it does not," Zim said this plainly, focusing fiercely on the screen as though trying to ignore him.

"Well, not that it would ever be true..." Dib shrugged lazily and the alien responded with a vague nod, "I'm still the one and only defender of Earth after all..."

Zim smirked nastily, "And I am still the greatest Invader to ever live! Just wait, Dib... One day I will this planet and you will have to bow before me too. I will own this base too—"

"Then I'll just have to stop you, just like always," Dib snacked on the popcorn as the movie moved into full swing, only partially aware of how meaningful those words truly were and how true his observation seemed at that moment. Zim was content with that declaration too, pleased that even after all this time fighting one another, they both still refused to let time change them.


End file.
